


Hold Me Tight Tonight (Please)

by Nathalaia



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Alternate Universe, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nathalaia/pseuds/Nathalaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Primroses stand for eternal love, and Jaehwan could only laugh until he teared up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold Me Tight Tonight (Please)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Yes. I've fallen into the rabbit hole that is VIXX (No thanks to you, [Meg,](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MegLee06/pseuds/MegLee06) my lovely beta, yet horrible for wishing this pain upon my frail heart), and I've regretted it ever since.
> 
> Anyway. Here's my first contribution to the fandom! First of quite a few; this is the fourth Word document out of five (at the time of writing), but it is the one I finished first. Because logic.
> 
> And, really, precious Lee Jaehwan brought this upon himself after the [Chained](http://41.media.tumblr.com/5748626100e3dff0a0ea13fc8e3a0de0/tumblr_nxl4hgsEGA1thgz16o1_1280.jpg) [Up](http://i2.wp.com/seoulbeats.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/20151112_seoulbeats_vixx_ken2.jpg?resize=540%2C279) [MV](http://38.media.tumblr.com/75b7a9ea43e361062d29dcf18f94bdf9/tumblr_nxkybjvpRm1ujiroio2_1280.gif) and his [pictures](http://i.imgur.com/3AiQLvO.jpg) (I have another fic in the works, inspired by this very photo. In due time!). Thus, here we are! Hanahaki disease, anyone? <3
> 
> This fic is hypothetically set in canon, around Chained Up, but I’ve taken my liberties with real life events, et cetera. Just a heads up!
> 
> For the HMTT(P) POSTER, check link: http://i.imgur.com/UpPJWof.png  
> (Credits go to http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/847707/spotlight-posters-closed-temporarily-hiring-graphics-poster-request-postershop-graphicshop-designer)

**Warnings:** Beware of _Creater Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings_ (to avoid spoilers).

* * *

It was when he coughed, hand flying up to cover his mouth, that he, upon discovering the two innocent flower petals in his palm, knew this wasn’t a common cold.

Jaehwan had, prior to this moment, believed he was just suffering from a case of stubborn coughs. It would sneak up on him, the urge to clear his throat, when he was reading, talking, practising, _anything_ , and he had thought nothing of it, not really. Hakyeon, as the leader and resident mother of the group, had more than once voiced his concerns, but Jaehwan had easily waved him off each time, insisting it would be over before they knew it. It was just lack of sleep, straining his voice; the stress that came with a new album and everything it entailed. He would be _fine_.

But, now, staring down at the white and yellow petals curled up in his palm, feeling oddly detached from his body, he realised that, no, he may not be fine, after all.

✿

He found out what he suffered from after a quick search online. _Hanahaki byou_ , a millennia old disease that had attracted attention first in Japan, hence the name, whilst in Korea it was commonly known as _ggoch jilhwan_. Flower disease. A tactless, unoriginal name, Jaehwan thought sourly. Fall in love, have that love be unrequited, and then die from flowers filling up your chest. Delightful.

But, of course, if that were all it took, people would be dropping dead at every corner and this disease would be widely known all across the globe. No, no, it was even better. See, you had to first find your _soulmate_ , which, to begin with, was a near impossible achievement, and if you, in spite of that, _actually_ managed to meet them and fall in love, you would know by the time you started throwing up flowers.

Jaehwan rather loathed the idea of soulmates.

He tried to tell himself that it was nothing to worry about, that the petals hadn’t really been there, even if the sickness in his gut told him otherwise. It was stupid, really, to think he could actually fool himself when he had been very much aware of coughing them up, and of flushing them down the toilet with trembling hands not many minutes later.

But how could he face reality when _reality_ was forcing _petals_ up his throat and into his open palms? When this was no laughing matter, and those inconspicuous white petals were evidence that fucking flowers were sprouting inside his fucking ribcage, steadily taking up more and more space until they would crush his lungs and take away his breath? There was a ticking bomb in his chest, just waiting to explode.

How could he face the world when he was dying because of something so beautiful as love?

It wasn’t fucking fair. He wanted to tear out his hair, to scream and cry his throat raw, wanted to throw away everything within an arm’s length. He wanted to hear the sound glass would make as it shattered against the wall. It would probably be reminiscent of the way his heart was breaking, and just as merciless.

But he did nothing of that sort. Instead, he lifted his head to stare at his reflection, practising a smile in the mirror until Sanghyuk decided he had been hogging the bathroom for too long and other people needed to use it, so _please, hyung, hurry up. We don’t have all day_.

Never had falling asleep been so hard.

Never had closing his eyes been so terrifying.

❀

It had dawned on Jaehwan that he was in love with his own bandmate no more than three months ago. It had neither shocked nor surprised him; rather, loving Hongbin felt as natural as singing, and it had been easy to admit to himself that, yes, he was in love, and deeply so.

What hadn’t been easy was the day Hongbin had introduced them to his girlfriend, Jeon Hyoseong. _That_ had felt like an iron bat to his stomach; without knowing it, Hongbin had effectively stolen away Jaehwan’s breath, but not in one of the numerous ways Jaehwan had pictured in his daydreams. That kind of breathlessness was not welcome.

Jaehwan wanted to hate the woman Hongbin loved, but Hyoseong was kind and thoughtful and pretty, and Jaehwan couldn’t bring himself to treat her poorly for selfish reasons. He wasn’t such a petty person, and he’d sooner give up _VIXX_ than let himself succumb to hatred. And it wasn’t like their love was smooth sailing, not with the way they had to be careful of the media finding out. But while they had to keep their relationship under wraps, they still _had_ a relationship. All Jaehwan had was a secret. And a whole lot of heartache.

Loving someone meant putting their happiness before yours, but, _gods_ , it hurt to see the dimpled smiles Hongbin reserved for Hyoseong, the times Hyoseong would slip her hand into his, the shy kisses they exchanged when they thought no one was looking. Jaehwan had had to look away the first time he caught the warmth in Hongbin’s gaze as he watched Hyoseong chat merrily with Sanghyuk and Hakyeon.

Sometimes ignorance was bliss, for it hurt so much less. Back when they hadn’t know, when Hongbin hadn’t had Hyoseong, it was easier for Jaehwan to forget that Hongbin would never see Jaehwan the way Jaehwan saw him, and Jaehwan had been alright with that. Or so he had thought.

The thing with soulmates, he found, the catch to the rose-colored image, was that love never bloomed automatically between two destined people. Hongbin could grow to love Jaehwan, over time, but that was just it, wasn’t it? Jaehwan didn’t _have_ time, and he most certainly couldn’t force Hongbin to love him, or demand of him that he stopped seeing Hyoseong.

Hongbin didn’t know his soulmate was Jaehwan, and Jaehwan dared not tell him. Because when it came down to it, they were idols, and they were both still men. Hongbin didn’t even know he had it in him to love another man, and if Jaehwan came out to him, what would he then do? How would that affect their relationship? Would he tell the other members? Would they be disgusted with him, would they tell the manager, would he tell the CEO?

What if netizens found out? There may be fans who shipped him with the other members, but would they all be so supportive if they found out their idol really was gay? Would they hate him as well?

What would happen to _VIXX_ if the world found out Ken preferred dicks over tits?

He didn’t want to find out. He didn’t want to risk losing Hongbin’s friendship, nor the other members’, and he didn’t want _VIXX_ to be forever tarnished because of him.

To him, the better option was silence.

✿

Trying to stay away from Hongbin, Jaehwan had realised fairly quickly, was like trying to stop thinking; it was impossible. Not to mention how hard it was to _not look_ at him. No matter the circumstances, he was drawn to the other, almost by second-nature.

Needless to say, he gave up not many days into his attempt, resigning himself to his fate.

He wished he could stop time when Hongbin’s smile was particularly breath-taking or when his eyes crinkled cutely when he laughed - especially when Jaehwan was the cause. He wanted to imprint every expression Hongbin made on his eyelids so that, when he went to sleep at night, his dreams would be of Hongbin. He wanted to draw him, every little detail, every blemish, because it was those flaws that made Hongbin so perfect in Jaehwan’s eyes.

He wanted to record every sound that left Hongbin’s pretty lips so that he could replay them over and over, because he’d never grow tired of Hongbin’s voice.

Jaehwan wanted so much, but it was not to be, so he made do with what he got.

He tried to tell himself it was enough.

❀

Jaehwan felt as though the world were laughing in his face, spiting him just to watch him stumble. Why else would he ever find himself in a glass cage filled with flowers for their new music video? It was cruel. He felt confined inside the walls of glass, surrounded by beautiful blossoms. But like a rose had thorns, these flowers would stab him until he bled all over the them and their stems, and it was the most horrible feeling ever to step inside that space when he was now coughing up petals on a daily basis.

On a brighter note, Jaehwan thought with a sneer, no one was any the wiser about the stray petal on his sleeve.

When they returned to the dorm on the last day – _night_ – of filming, Jaehwan was the first to excuse himself. He couldn’t hold up the façade for one more minute. Something had to give. Talking had been no easy matter, not when it felt like something was clogging up his throat. His eyes had burned the whole day, and no amount of rubbing had been able to soothe them. He was wound up, stretched too thin, with an itch under his skin that he couldn’t reach, and it _frustrated_ him.

He was seconds away from falling apart.

It was only once he was seated on the edge of his bed, staring emptily into air, that the tears fell from unblinking eyes, dripping from his cheeks onto the floor and taking with them all the pain that had built up throughout the day – or was it months? It left him with an ache between his brows, but it was still a vast improvement from earlier, from when breathing had almost hurt and he hadn’t known what to do with himself.

He cried himself to sleep that night, buried underneath his duvet, letting it shelter him from the world for just a little while.

And in the morning, he felt capable of once more donning the mask of Ken.

✿

Their new music video was received well by _Starlights_ , but with the many stages and appearances on variety shows it got exceedingly harder to hide the petals. He tried to hold back the sudden coughs when on stage, and mostly succeeded, only to bolt for the nearest restroom the moment the opportunity showed.

He would always watch the flower petals – _six, seven, nine, ten_ – fall into the sink or the toilet, before returning to his bandmates’ side, waving off their questions with Ken’s quirkiness and jokes. It was only nerves. It was a bad lunch. He always had an excuse, and he always gave it with a smile.

But sometimes he wondered if his smiles were as broken as he felt, because Hakyeon always questioned.

“Are you certain you don’t need to talk to manager hyung about seeing a doctor?” Hakyeon asked one evening, after he had convinced Jaehwan to do the dishes with him, concern dripping from his words. “You have been coughing for… Jaehwanie, it has been almost two months. What if ignoring this will cause long-term damage to your vocal chords? What if it’s something worse?”

“It’s nothing, hyung,” Jaehwan swiftly tried to assure, lips stretched wide in a cheerful grin. “I’ll bet it’s just lack of sleep and stressing over the album, you know?”

There was still a furrow between Hakyeon’s eyebrows, but he seemed inclined to believe Jaehwan’s words. After all, they were all used to long days of practise and nights with little to no sleep. “Is the coughing keeping you up?”

Sanghyuk appeared at Jaehwan’s left before he could form a reply, making a soft noise, and poked him between the ribs. He grinned when Jaehwan swatted back at him.

“I’m just glad I’m not sharing a room with hyung,” the younger man said with a mischievous smirk. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep for you.”

“Oh.” Jaehwan squinted at Hakyeon, distracted from his retaliating blow to Sanghyuk with this thought. This opening. “Do I keep _you_ up at night?”

When Hakyeon hesitated, pursing his lips as he tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound like a complaint, Jaehwan saw his chance and took it.

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling. “I could switch beds with Sanghyukie? Wonshik-ah sleeps like the dead, so perhaps he won’t be kept up.” And, more importantly, he wouldn’t find Jaehwan with petals on his pillow.

Hakyeon seemed like he wanted to argue, if only to make sure he hadn’t hurt Jaehwan’s feelings, but then he just smiled warmly at Jaehwan and patted his arm, before he eyed Sanghyuk.

“Would you mind switching with Jaehwanie for the time being?”

Sanghyuk gave a careless wave with his hand. “Nah. Hyung can have my bed. Wonshik hyung snores, anyway.”

“I do _not_!” came a shout from the living room. Sanghyuk’s eyes lit up in glee as he scampered away from them and into the other room, no doubt to pester the rapper.

“I will talk to Wonshikie,” said Hakyeon, his leader voice on as if it were needed to make this room change official. Jaehwan gave him a grateful smile and together they went back to the dishes.

“Let’s get this done with, hyung.”

In the other room, he could hear the others laughing at Wonshik’s protests. But out of all of them, Hongbin’s laughter rang the clearest in Jaehwan’s ears, so clear that the light tones resonated in his bones.

❀

Once, in a drunken stupor, Jaehwan had draped himself all over Hongbin and asked, “Hongbin-ah, Hongbinie, could you ever love me?”

Chuckling, Hongbin had cooed and patted his head. “I already love you, hyung! You’re my favourite!”

Jaehwan had smiled, smiled until it felt like his face might crack.

Of course Hongbin wouldn’t understand.

✿

A few days into the new year saw him on his knees in the middle of his and Wonshik’s room, a hand over his mouth as he coughed until his sight blurred with tears. He had been hacking up more and more petals lately, dozens upon dozens, but this time, his hand came back not with petals, but a whole flower. Whole, yet matted, the white petals crumbled and soaked with his saliva.

He didn’t recognise the blossom, but later that night, when he knew the rest were fast asleep in their beds, he grabbed his laptop and snuck off into the bathroom. He wasn’t sure why he did it, what compelled him to further his suffering, but something in him _needed_ to know what the flowers that had taken up residence in his ribcage represented. Some warped fascination that wouldn’t leave him alone.

He didn’t know a lot of flowers as it was, but he managed to find the one he was looking for after fifteen minutes of scrolling through images and websites.

The flower was a primrose. A primrose stood for eternal love. _I can’t live without you_ , it meant, and a sudden laugh spilled over Jaehwan’s lips, so loud he feared someone would hear. But he couldn’t stop them. They sprung from his chest, tripping in their eagerness to escape his mouth, twisting his mirth into something near hysterical. He laughed and laughed, could only laugh until he teared up, biting his lip to muffle his sobs and tasting iron on his tongue.

Sitting on the toilet, laptop lying forgotten on the floor, he cried until there were no tears left to shed. Only then did he return to bed and slept for two hours until Hakyeon gently shook him awake.

Donning Ken’s masks, he lived through the hours of practise, even if they had stopped promoting _Chained Up_ last month, and the next day, and the next, because Jaehwan was faltering, primroses sown from love growing inside his ribcage, ticking away his life, one flower, one second, one petal at a time.

❀

He had taken to hiding away in the bathroom when everything became too much, when he felt another attack coming. It became his safe haven, when he started to get short-breathed from the secrets wrapped around his heart; a place to be himself, where the lies didn’t weigh him down.

That day, when he slammed the door closed behind him and then proceeded to collapse against it, he slid down to the floor and pushed his face into his hands. He desperately needed something to take away the pain, to stop him from hurting so much. He needed a reprieve.

So it seemed like a good idea when he staggered back to his feet to rummage through the cupboards, looking for something, anything –

And he found it. It was small, fit between his fingers, but it was sharp and that was enough.

He sat back down in a corner, pulling his legs up to his chest, and looked at the blade, turning it over to study it from all angles. It reflected the glow of the ceiling light, glinting, promising to take away the pain in Jaehwan’s heart, in his head.

Pulling up his sleeve, he grabbed the blade tightly between his forefinger and middle finger before carefully pressing down, breaking the skin on his wrist. It stung, the blood lazily welling up as he drew a straight line. Then he paused, watching with rapt attention.

It was such a small wound, thin and barely five centimetres long, yet the amount of blood surprised him. It continued to swell along the cut until the invisible barrier burst, and it spilled over. He couldn’t look away as the blood trickled down his forefinger, crimson beads dripping like beautiful liquid petals –

And that was when the nausea crashed into him, shattering the numbness that had settled over his mind. His hands trembled, and the razor blade clattered to the floor as he sank back against the wall, breaths coming in erratic pants. He grasped his wrist tightly, all too aware of his heart fluttering away in his chest like a hummingbird’s wings. Anxiety crawled up his spine, his vision clouding, and suddenly all he wanted was to curl up and cry his heart out.

This wasn’t it. He couldn’t cut this ache out of him in small lines along his wrist. This wouldn’t take away the pain. It would only bring more, and if the coordi noonas saw the wounds, or if his members…

He just wanted someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright, even if nothing were.

✿

In late-January, his secrets could be kept no longer. Not with how he vomited flowers and petals every other hour. In retrospect, it was pure luck he hadn’t been discovered after such a long time, though, he supposed, he also had individual schedules to thank for that.

But that day, they happened to have dance practise together, and in the middle of going through the choreography for _Hot Enough_ , he felt the coughs creeping up on him, threatening to tear apart his chest. So he croaked out _Five minutes_ and bolted. He managed to find an empty room, get inside and close the door after him, before he collapsed and started hacking up petals and flowers and what felt like his lungs and heart.

Typically, these attacks lasted from everywhere between one to ten minutes. Sixty seconds of coughing until he could barely breathe, or more, but with interludes that allowed him to catch his breath.

This attack lasted longer than that, with fewer breaths between, and _that_ , coupled with the way he had left the others, spelled his secrets’ exposure.

A knock on the door had Jaehwan’s heart jumping to his throat, and he prayed, prayed that whoever was out there would just go, _leave_ , they couldn’t find out –

“Jaehwan-ah?” Taekwoon.

He hoped his silence would deter the elder, but instead the door handle was pushed down, and he choked out, “No, please, hyung, don’t –” But then his chest seized and more petals scattered over the floor, joining the dozens already covering the wood. He tried to breathe between heaves, trembling half-sobs pulled from his lips together with the petals at the thought that, oh, God, Taekwoon had found him, _no_.

“Jaehwan.” Taekwoon’s voice was not much louder than his default tone, but there was an urgency to it that wasn’t usually there, confusion, concern, and some fear, and Jaehwan pressed his forehead to the cool floor, wishing Taekwoon would have just left him alone. It would have saved them both the trouble.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing, and Taekwoon crouched by his side, “Hey, Jaehwan, look at me,” but he _couldn’t_. He was so afraid, terrified, because now Taekwoon would tell the rest, and if they found out, oh, God, if they found out, if Hongbin –

“ _Jaehwan._ ”

The hand on his shoulder lifted, only to find his face, gently coaxing his head up. When Jaehwan blinked his eyes open, squinted up at Taekwoon’s frown, something broke inside him. Tears welled up and spilled over, and he made a pitiful noise and reached for Taekwoon, needing comfort, needed someone to hold him, to be there for him, to be stronger when he himself failed, cracking, splintering, breaking.

Taekwoon silently allowed him to tuck his face in the crook of his neck, to grasp at his shirt as he cried and choked on flower petals.

Someone knew, and that terrified him.

Someone knew, and relief was like a balm on his wounds.

❀

It took an hour to convince Taekwoon to not tell a soul. Jaehwan pleaded with him, assured him that, when he was ready, he’d tell the others. He’d be _fine_. He’d fix this. _Don’t worry, hyung._

“Who is it?” Taekwoon wanted to know. Not pushing. Never pushing. Just a question.

Jaehwan blinked at him, hesitating, was considering telling him, but in the end, he couldn’t. Taekwoon mustn’t know.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Over the next couple of days, weeks, Taekwoon stuck to Jaehwan’s side like a leech and watched him like a hawk, that is, when he wasn’t away for schedules. He had even, on the night of discovering Jaehwan’s secret, told Wonshik that they would be switching beds, and Wonshik had agreed without protests. The others hadn’t questioned it, but they occasionally threw them looks and frowns, knowing something was up. Hakyeon in particular seemed concerned, but not even _he_ could get Taekwoon to spill it, and Jaehwan had kept his illness a secret for so long, so what would this change? He had nearly perfected the masks he wore.

Subsequently, the attacks were getting steadily worse as the days went by. Taekwoon was irreplaceable when it came to helping Jaehwan find an empty room to cover in flowers before helping him empty it once more. The amount of flowers and petals he was coughing up was getting harder and harder to hide, but with Taekwoon, it made things a little easier.

Taekwoon was against it, however, and would say so whenever Jaehwan was bent over the toilet or hiding away in the closet or curled up on the bed, chest heaving from exertion as he coughed and coughed and coughed with no end in sight. Sometimes, Jaehwan would deign him an answer, always one of refusal, and other times, he would be too short of breath to say anything at all, chest constricting with the force of the coughs.

But no matter what, even if Taekwoon tensed every time Jaehwan coughed, every time he gasped, every time he sobbed, he would unfailingly sit with Jaehwan through every single horrible minute of throwing up spit-soaked flowers, murmuring words of comfort and patting Jaehwan’s back and carding his fingers through his hair, doing everything he could to make it easier for Jaehwan, and Jaehwan loved him so, so much for it.

It was slowly dawning on him that his time was rapidly dwindling. Soon, the flowers inside his ribcage would have done their job, and he would be no more.

It didn’t upset him as much as he thought it should have.

✿

Sometimes, in his darker moods, when he felt like he was grasping at straws and the air was too thin and nothing made sense, he thought of telling Hongbin. He’d start, get the words to nearly come out.

“Hongbin, Hongbin-ah. I…”

If only Hongbin would love him, if only he didn’t have Hyoseong, maybe he would realise that Jaehwan was _right here_ , so full of love and flowers already, so ready to love Hongbin, for Hongbin was beautiful, kind, funny, deserved everything good in the world, and Jaehwan wanted to be the one to give it to him. He wanted to shower him with love, gifts, wanted to touch his lips with his, to kiss away his breath in the sweetest ways possible. He wanted to touch, to mark, to please, to give and to take.

Instead, he was choking on primroses and getting his heart broken a little bit every day, the pieces dropping to the pit of his lungs to be with the flowers stealing away his life. He was dying, and it was because Hongbin didn’t love him in the same way Jaehwan loved _him_ , and it _hurt_ , it hurt so fucking much to see him smiling and happy when Jaehwan himself was withering.

But this wasn’t Hongbin’s fault.

He was half-convinced that he could feel the stems closing around his lungs, his heart, tightening, tightening, _crushing_ –

“Yes, hyung?”

“I… Nothing.”

❀

The worst attack thus far happened one late night, three weeks after Taekwoon had found him doubled over on the floor. It had sneaked up on him and dragged him kicking and screaming from sleep, and it had taken Taekwoon less than a minute to come to his side, loosely holding his wrist, the one Jaehwan had cut what felt like ages ago, and running his fingers through Jaehwan’s hair.

What had Jaehwan’s heart catching in his throat was how it didn’t seem to want to _stop_. His chest hurt from all the coughing, his throat burned, and his cheeks were stained with tears. He was shaking, and in that moment, he was so terrified of dying, Taekwoon’s arms around him doing nothing to comfort his mind.

An eternity later, it had eased enough for him to shoo Taekwoon away, telling him with a tearful smile to get some sleep, and thank you for being here for me, hyung, thank you, thank you.

_Thank you for being here so that I’m not alone._

Listening to Taekwoon’s soft breaths, he managed to, after an hour, fall into a fitful sleep, only to be roused an undetermined amount of time later, primroses on his pillow and unable to breathe from the blooms forcing their way out of his throat. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe –

There were hands on him, Taekwoon’s insistent voice calling his name, and Jaehwan could only curl his hands around his pillow, straining for air that wouldn’t enter his lungs. So soon. Why was the next attack so _soon_? He was shaking again, and fear wrapped around his heart, his mind, was he going to die now?

He was vaguely aware of Taekwoon announcing, with a shaky voice, that this was it, he was getting Hakyeon, and he wouldn’t listen to Jaehwan’s empty promises anymore, because, clearly, things weren’t looking up, and gods, he had been so stupid to let Jaehwan do this, because now look, his words following him as he left the room, growing softer with every step he took.

Jaehwan couldn’t even blame him. Had he been in Taekwoon’s stead, he would have probably not been able to keep the secrets for so long, but perhaps Taekwoon had needed the hope ignorance brought. Perhaps that was why he had kept quiet until now; it made him able to forget that, when it came down to it, Jaehwan wasn’t getting any better.

Taekwoon was loyal to a fault, and it wasn’t fair of Jaehwan to force this burden upon his shoulders.

By the time Hakyeon came storming into the room, eyes wide with fright and panic, Jaehwan was able to draw in shuddering gasps, still not enough air, but at least he didn’t feel seconds away from fainting, and that was good, right? That was better than dead.

“Jaehwan, Jaehwanie, why would you - Why haven’t you _told_ us –” Hakyeon was rambling, running his hands over Jaehwan’s cheeks and brushing away tears, as Taekwoon came to stand by Jaehwan’s bedside with his arms crossed over his chest, watching Jaehwan with a troubled frown and pursed lips. Jaehwan managed a half-smile, and something sounding suspiciously close to a sob left Hakyeon as he cradled Jaehwan’s face, the three of them anxiously waiting for the attack to be over.

“Why, Jaehwanie?” asked Hakyeon softly, sounding confused and hurt, and Jaehwan felt so bad, so guilty. “Why not confide in us? Why suffer alone? If you’d said something, we… I should have paid better attention, I should’ve known –”

Jaehwan shushed him, smiling weakly, still winded from the coughing. “Don’t put the blame on yourself, hyung. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.” He glanced up at Taekwoon’s silent form, biting his lip and then lowering his head in shame. “I’m sorry, hyung, for putting you through this. Both of you.”

“Don’t be,” Taekwoon murmured, and Hakyeon agreed with him.

“We’ll figure this out together, okay?” he said, smiling bravely, brightly, so brightly that Jaehwan found himself smiling as well, hoping, maybe, just maybe…

But perhaps it was already too late.

✿

“Whom do you love, Jaehwan?” Hakyeon demanded to know. “Who is making you cough up flowers?”

“Hongbin…”

He couldn’t say it. They couldn’t know, not when it could jeopardise his friendship with the members, and _VIXX_ ’ future, if the world found out. He needed to say _something_ , he knew, but he _couldn’t_ tell them the truth.

So he swallowed, heart hammering away in his chest. He talked slowly, quietly, forcing the words out, because no matter how much it upset him, it was for the best.

“Hongbin’s girlfriend. I love Hyoseong noona. That’s why. He can’t… He can’t find out. No one can.”

Of all the lies he had ever told, this one might have hurt the most.

❀

The attacks returned with renewed aggression.

Mere two days after Taekwoon had gone to Hakyeon for help, Jaehwan collapsed in the middle of dance practise (Hakyeon hadn’t allowed him to dance, worried as he was even after Jaehwan’s countless assurances, and this time, Jaehwan hadn’t had the energy to protest, so he had stayed put and watched them instead), hand pressed to his mouth as he heaved. Sanghyuk looked terrified, Wonshik shouted, Hongbin – Hongbin crouched by Jaehwan’s side, hand on his back, concern laced in his words, and Jaehwan wanted to cry, spill everything right then and there. Every lie, every secret.

Then Hakyeon and Taekwoon were there, crowding around him and pushing Hongbin out of the way, the man stumbling back as the two elders dragged Jaehwan up and out of them room, because they hadn’t yet decided on when and how to tell the other members about Jaehwan’s predicament, and they didn’t want them to find out like this. For their sake, and for Jaehwan’s.

Jaehwan was sobbing again by the time Hakyeon and Taekwoon had brought him somewhere secluded, struggling to breathe in-between vomiting beautiful, bloody blooms.

“Jaehwan, listen to me, breathe. Jaehwanie,” Hakyeon instructed, and Jaehwan listened, and he tried to breathe, he really did, but there were just too many flowers.

He really was dying, wasn’t he?

“Jaehwan,” Taekwoon was calling, and soon Hakyeon’s voice blended with his, becoming muted, intelligible. His vision was smudging around the edges, Hakyeon’s face in front of him blurred. He could barely make out the panicked look on his face.

Then his sight blackened.

✿

When he woke up next, it took a few seconds to recognise Wonshik’s workroom. He was lying on the cot, and there were white primroses with red splotches on the pillow and around him.

Sitting up slowly, Jaehwan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, blinking owlishly at the small smear of blood left behind after the action. It surprised him, slightly, that he hadn’t died earlier, in Taekwoon and Hakyeon’s arms, but maybe that was good. He didn’t want them to go through that.

“Hyung?”

But they wouldn’t have left him alone after that fainting spell, thus the revelation of Wonshik’s presence was one thing that _didn’t_ surprise him.

Glancing up, he was met with Wonshik’s worried face looming over him. Jaehwan couldn’t muster up the energy to send him a smile, knowing it was pointless. If Wonshik were here, he would have already been told of Jaehwan’s condition, and smiling would do nothing to change that reality. And if he were here, the others…

The others must be with the manager.

“How are you feeling?” Wonshik whispered, dark eyes portraying his every emotion. All of them hurt. All of them concerned.

Jaehwan swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, fingers grasping at the covers. Wonshik didn’t deserve this, either, but the worry in his gaze made Jaehwan want to break down and beg for forgiveness. Wonshik was too sweet for his own good, and Jaehwan was about to take advantage of that, just like he had taken advantage of Taekwoon’s loyalty.

He was doing them a favour, he told himself as he, despite every thought he’d had earlier, forced a smile onto his lips.

“I’m feeling alright,” he croaked, “but the… The coughing has made me thirsty. Could you… bring me a glass of water?”

Wonshik regarded him for a moment, staying in his chair as he took Jaehwan in, before clearing his throat.

“You know,” Wonshik said softly, “when they said this… That this is due to Hyoseong noona, I… I was surprised for a second, because I thought…” He searched for Jaehwan’s eyes and bit down on his bottom lip, looking like one who wasn’t sure if they were supposed to say what they had in mind. It didn’t settle well with Jaehwan.

“Hyung, this isn’t really about _Hyoseong_ , is it?”

Jaehwan felt all colour drain from his face, and Wonshik must have seen that or something else in his expression, for he was quick to raise his hands in a pacifying gesture.

“I don’t… Hyung, don’t panic. I’m not - not judging you, or anything. I have just…” He wrung his hands, clearing grasping for words. “I have never seen you look at Hyoseong noona the way you look at Hongbin.”

Jaehwan gathered his hands in his lap, trying to hide their trembling, trying to buy time. Time he didn’t have, he reminded himself, as he felt another attack coming.

“Look,” Wonshik murmured, standing from his chair to pace a few steps in either direction, too nervous to sit still as he spoke. “I haven’t told the others. And I won’t, but, hyung… I don’t want you to…”

“I really need that water,” Jaehwan cut in, almost desperately. He couldn’t do this now, ever. His palms were sweaty, and he needed Wonshik out of the room. The coughs were returning, and Wonshik couldn’t be here for that. He needed him to _leave._

Wonshik stopped short on a spot on the floor, glancing guiltily at Jaehwan. There was a frown etched onto his forehead, and he visibly deflated.

“I’ll… I’ll be back in a minute, hyung,” he mumbled, walking towards the door. “But please hear me out, okay?” He looked back at Jaehwan once in front of the door, eyes searching, innocent.

“Yes,” Jaehwan breathed, the pressure in his chest increasing. “When you get back, I will.”

Wonshik nodded wordlessly and stepped out of the room. Jaehwan stayed put long enough for Wonshik’s footsteps to grow distant, and then he shot up from the bed, swaying on his feet. He coughed up a few flowers as he stumbled to the door and struggled with the lock.

The others thought he could be fixed. They thought they could give him more time. But it was too late for Jaehwan. He was wilting, rapidly, and he didn’t want to die before their eyes. He couldn’t be by their side, couldn’t say goodbye.

They mustn’t find him. He couldn’t handle that.

With the latch in place, he returned to the bed and sat down with a sigh that turned into a cough halfway, another and another tumbling from his lips until breathing once again became a task that brought tears to his eyes. Or maybe that was the realisation that, okay, this was really it. He was going to die here.

An odd sense of serenity settled over him. After all, he had had months to prepare for his imminent death, though the sight of primroses revolted him. Such seemingly innocent blossoms, sprung from love, beautiful flowers, and they were killing him.

Wrapping his arms around himself, he had never felt more lonely, and he almost regretted sending Wonshik away instead of finding their members, instead of calling his family. He wanted to tell his bandmates, his brothers, that he loved them and wished them well, knew they’d be able to move on without him by their side. _VIXX_ had to stay together, stay strong. He wanted to tell them that he’d miss them, please take good care of each other.

He wanted to tell his parents and brothers that he loved them, and ask for forgiveness, but knew that they, too, would move on.

He wanted to tell Hongbin how much he loved him, and how sad he was that they’d never get to be together. He hoped he’d be happy with Hyoseong, but more than anything, he hoped that he would never find out how much Jaehwan loved him. Without a doubt he’d blame himself, and Jaehwan didn’t want that. He just wanted him happy.

He wanted to tell everyone that he was sorry, so _fucking sorry,_ but he knew he couldn’t. Letting go would be that much harder with people he loved around him, and it may be selfish, but he couldn’t do that. He had to be alone for this, or he’d want to live, and that would hurt so much worse when he knew that wasn’t an option.

He choked on a sob, rubbing his eyes in a half-hearted attempt at stopping the tears from spilling over. How much he craved someone to hold him, to tell him he needn’t be afraid. He was so close to crying out for Wonshik, for the others. For Hongbin, beg him to love him, to forgive him, please.

But it would be okay, wouldn’t it? They would be okay. He would be alright, in the end.

He tried to tell himself that, but panic was clawing at him, the lack of air scaring him, terrifying him.

Oh, God, he couldn’t do this alone.

The urge to cough hit him again, and he gave in, hacking up flowers. He curled up on the cot, in the midst of his garden of primroses. Tremors were working through him; he was shaking – with panic, fear, grief, _relief_ , he didn’t know. He couldn’t breathe, could only hear his own stunted pants.

He thought he could hear raps on the door, calls of his name – Wonshik? Hongbin? – but even if he wanted to let them in, he couldn’t move. He was growing too weak.

Jaehwan was afraid, but he was also relieved.

He thought of Hongbin. His cute dimples, sweet smiles, his kind eyes. His soothing voice – oh, how he wished he could have heard it just once more, before death came to take him away.

_Someone help, please, help, help -_

He couldn’t breathe.

❀

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_He loves me…_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

✿

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_He loves me not…_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

❀

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_He loves me…_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

✿

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_He loves me not.  
_ ❀

**Author's Note:**

> Yes. Yes, I kill a VIXX character in my first VIXX fic. Sue me (please don’t, I’m poor.) (There’s more death to come in future works by me, so beware. Pfft.)
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this! Or hated it, but still kind of enjoyed it, you know? Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Huuuuuge thanks to Meg, my beloved beta and nightingale, for helping me with this! I owe her the remaining pitiful pieces of my soul <3
> 
> If you have questions, ask away and I’ll answer. Also, if you catch any typos neither Meg nor I have caught, or have other forms of constructive critique, please let me know so I can edit and improve my writing, as English is not my first language! Furthermore, I really, really love comments <3
> 
> I think that’s it? Thus, until whenever, lovely readers! Merry Christmas, if you celebrate that, and happy New Year! <3


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